The-Word-Thief

Gently brushing against him, I flinch.  I feel him, closer than ever, his rotting breath on my neck and his enticing voice in my ear. I cannot give in.  Dragging myself to my feet, I trudge on.  Each footstep is thunder and each ragged breath is hell.  Every rumble of my stomach, deafening.  The averted eyes of strangers pierce my soul.  Their blank faces loom in and out of focus.  Muffled voices ask about my wellbeing.  I stumble and fall.  No, stand, please legs work, please, oh god, please stand up, don't let me fall, he'll catch me, he'll take me, oh please, stand… Gripping the wall, my head pounding, I begin to buckle – again